


7AM

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who schedules a class at 7AM?<br/>Sherlock Holmes meets John Watson during his first uni class of the day. The first words out of John's mouth?</p>
<p>"I'm going to die."</p>
<p>Sherlock is inexplicably interested in this unusual man, while John is captivated by Sherlock's mind.</p>
<p>Sherlock certainly never expected to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://korrakun.tumblr.com/post/98336180125/my-favorite-college-experience-is-when-i-had-a-7am) tumblr post
> 
> My first fic, please enjoy, any feedback is appreciated!

Sherlock hated uni.

Not because of the classes; no, for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes was taking an interest in his classes. And it wasn’t the people, either. Although Sherlock had been an outcast throughout his school years, at uni he was just another student trying to make the grade. The only difference between him and the others was his lack of friends.

That was it, then. No friends. Not that he wanted friends- seven billion people in the world and not a single one who could measure up to his intelligence. Absolutely pitiful, it was. But as Sherlock trudged through the B wing and into room 221, he wished that he had someone who would bring him coffee at this ungodly hour.

_Who schedules a class at 7 in the morning?_ Sherlock eyed the room. All of his classmates had coffee, the professor had coffee, he was the only damn person in the room without one. Taking his seat in the second-to-last row, Sherlock leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock. 3 minutes early.

“I’m going to die.”

Sherlock turned, startled, but quickly regained his composure. “Aren’t we all?”

In the seat directly to his right was a male student, sandy blond hair, 20 years old- no, he had to be 19, this class was only offered to first-years. His jumper was obviously an attempt to fend off the cold, for he was shivering slightly. While his posture seemed to convey alertness, his eyes told another story. He had his coffee cup open on the desk, and in his hand was… a Monster Energy drink?

“Very funny, mate. But seriously, if I combust in the next hour, call 999? I don’t think the professor will even notice. She looks even more asleep than I do.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke, and Sherlock immediately felt his stomach do a flip.

_What’s going on? Why is my body reacting this way to another person? It’s just another bloke. Note to self: explore further._

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but the bloke had captured his attention. “John” (he was wearing dog tags) opened the energy drink, and with a wink in Sherlock’s direction, poured it into his coffee cup. Sherlock could only stare in amazement as John proceeded to down the entire drink and then look back over at Sherlock.

“So what’s your name? Mine’s John, by the way. John Watson. I think we’re going to be great friends.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock was baffled.

In the month since school had begun, not a single student had attempted to talk to him. No one except John.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, John and Sherlock arrived at B-221 a few minutes early. After the first two weeks, John had started bringing an extra coffee for Sherlock. They would sit in their respective desks, and Sherlock would steeple his hands under his chin and disappear into his mind palace. John would let him think while he took out his notebooks and pens and such; once he was ready for class, he would turn his body to face Sherlock and say one word.

“Deductions?”

Sherlock would nod and bring his desk closer to John’s. They’d look at the door, John leaning over slightly so that Sherlock could speak quietly into his ear. On this particular October day, there were some interesting sights.

“That boy, he had a one-night stand last night- no, it was the second night he’d slept with her, and she wants to keep it going, but he broke it off this morning by writing her a note as he rushed to this class. These girls, they’re best friends, have been for years. The one with purple hair is having relationship troubles, and the blonde one is trying to comfort her. Of course, Blondie is completely in love with Purple. Oh, and the professor has already slept with three of the students in this class. That’s it for today, I think.”

John looked at him in awe. “You could tell all that just by looking at them? God, I watch you do this every day and I’m still amazed.”

_Why does this make me happy? A simple compliment shouldn’t cause an irregular heart beat. Is something wrong with me?_

Sherlock shook his head, trying to focus on the conversation. “It’s simple, really. The bloke who broke up with the girl- he’s obviously in a huge rush, but he showered. Now, that’s not so unusual, except for his attire. He’s wearing plaid pink pajama pants with an orange shirt and slippers. Someone who cares enough about appearances to shower even while in a rush would never allow themselves out of the house like that. So, why did he have to shower? Sex.

“If it were a relationship, even a new one, the girl would have drifted closer to him unconsciously. The lover’s limbs would be wrapped around him when he woke up, meaning she would have risen when he did. We know that didn’t happen- no one who cares for him would let him out of the house looking like this. So, one-night stand. But then you see him walking funny. They obviously tried some pretty kinky stuff, since he can barely move. Not something you’d try the first time. So, second time. And can you tell? He doesn’t have that blissful post-sex look. He looks worn and there are ink smudges on his forehead. We know that he’s worried about something that he wrote a note for. Clearly he sent that girl packing.”

Sherlock finally ventured a glance at John. He was going to turn away now, wasn’t he? He was scared now, he was going to call Sherlock a freak and-

“What about the girls? How the hell did you know that? That was awesome! Damn, class is starting- but I want an explanation later. That was just- I’m speechless!”

_He’s not leaving? That’s…. good._

Sherlock focused on the lecture, but John kept drifting into his mind. When John had declared them to be friends, Sherlock had been surprised. But John didn’t seem to be mocking him in any way. In fact, he really seemed to be interested in Sherlock. It was a new experience, but Sherlock had to admit he enjoyed the company.

After class, Sherlock intended to just stand up and walk out like usual. Unlike the other students, he didn’t need to take any notes, so he didn’t have any books. But before Sherlock could take a step, John grabbed his arm.

Sherlock’s heart jumped. John’s hand must be warm, he deduced; surely that was the cause of the heat spreading from his forearm to the rest of his body.

“Think you’re gonna run off, do you? No, I want to know how you figured out all that before. That was absolutely brilliant!” John didn’t seem to be mocking Sherlock. No, he seemed genuinely fascinated.

_That’s a new reaction to my deductions. I should catalogue that later._

Sherlock glanced around. The other students were filing out of the room.

“We should probably leave. We can go to a coffee shop? If you want to, of course. I could always tell you while we walk. At least, I know I can talk and walk, and judging by your mental capacity, I’m sure you can-“ John cut Sherlock off before he could continue rambling.

“A coffee shop would be great, Sherlock. Let me just grab my things.”

—————  


Sherlock twitched as he contemplated leaving. This had been a bad idea. Here he was, sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for John to come back with the coffee. John. His friend, John. And John was probably going to get scared and leave and Sherlock would be left alone.

Oh well.

“So!” John set the two cups down on the table and slid into the booth across from Sherlock. “How’d you do it?”

As he began to speak, Sherlock relaxed. This was what he was good at.

“The girls we saw, I said they’ve been best friends for years. I actually deduced that on the first day of class. Everyone knows that this professor runs a difficult class, so most students walked in timidly. These two girls stuck together, but without speaking to each other much. This indicates that either they knew each other for a long time, or that they just met and don’t know what to say. Their body language told me it was the former.

“Purple-hair walked in with smudged makeup and sex hair. Obviously in a relationship; people tend to try to conceal the effects of a one-night stand, whereas those in relationships don’t mind. But I saw her body language and her eyes, shining with unshed tears- she’s upset. So, relationship issues. Blondie is trying to comfort her, rubbing her back, etc. But notice the way she’s careful of touching. She’s hyperaware of her own feelings, and she’s afraid that if she accidentally touches Purple, that her feelings will show through her façade.”

John had a smile on his face. “Okay, I don’t know how you saw all that, but that still leaves one question. How did you know about the professor?”

Now it was Sherlock who was smiling. “John, you see, but you do not observe. I’m not the only one who got a good score on the last test. She handed them back as we did our deductions this morning; notice that most of the class, you included, got bad marks. Their faces dropped or they frowned as they reviewed their tests. But there were four students in the class with a good grade. The three who got good marks ask constant questions in class. They have no understanding of the material, yet they got a good grade. Add that to the smiles exchanged between those students and the professor, and…” Sherlock waved his hand around, and John laughed.

“That’s…. that’s amazing. I think I’ve said ‘amazing’ more times today than I have my whole life!” John joked. Sherlock’s smile faltered.

_He doesn’t find me amazing. It’s just a joke, isn’t it? He’s just like everyone else._

John saw Sherlock’s face fall, and he immediately tried to fix his mistake. “No, no, I don’t mean…I meant everything I said today, alright, Sherlock? I just thought it was funny that I keep repeating that. I guess if we’re going to keep doing deductions than I just need to learn some more adjectives.”

John searched Sherlock’s face, looking for his approval. Did he say the right thing?

Sherlock burst into laughter, and John soon followed. Sherlock realized with a start that he hadn’t laughed in the longest time. But here he was, sitting across from his friend, laughing about a joke.

_Why did I ever think, even for a second, that John Watson is ordinary? No, he’s got this all wrong. He’s the amazing one, not me._

Sherlock stood up. “So anyway, that’s how I made my deductions. I’ll go now- I have a class across campus in 30 minutes.”

“Actually, Sherlock, I have a favor to ask. Could you take notes for me tomorrow? I know you don’t usually take notes and all, but I’m not going to be there, I have… a thing. And then we can meet up after classes tomorrow and maybe you could just explain the lecture to me?” Sherlock tried to refuse, but those eyes! John’s eyes were just marvelous, and they looked up at him, pleading….

“Of course, for a friend. When should we meet?”

John pulled a pen out from his bag, grabbed Sherlock’s hand, and scribbled his number. “Call me, okay? Whenever you want to meet. Thanks so much! I owe you one, ‘kay?”

Sherlock nodded and walked out of the coffee shop with warmth radiating through his hands and a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hello?”

It was Thursday afternoon, and Sherlock had finally decided to call John. John hadn’t given him enough clues to what he was doing, and Sherlock was panicking a bit; he had no idea when the best time to call would be. After his last class, Sherlock had gone back to his dorm and paced the room until the blokes below him banged on the ceiling. Around 6, he made up his mind and picked up the phone. Now John was listening, was waiting, and Sherlock’s mind had gone blank. How do you hold a conversation with someone who turns your mind to rubbish?

“Hello, um, notes! I mean, I took notes. For you. I mean I did what you asked so now I’m continuing your instructions. You know, by calling you. Meeting, we should meet somewhere. John, we can meet wherever you’d like. Whenever.” Sherlock babbled for what seemed like forever, and he was surprised by John’s laughter.

“Thanks for this. We could meet by the library, in, say, 20 minutes? Does that work?” Just from listening to his voice, Sherlock could practically hear John’s smile. He could certainly picture it. John seemed to know when Sherlock was unsure of what to say or how to act, and he was always flashing little smiles at Sherlock. Sherlock was comforted by it, and it made John all the more endearing.

“No problem. I’ll see you in a little while.”

_Was that too formal? What do normal people say on the phone? Should I have said “Bye!” at the end? What does John think of me? Why does this matter so much to me?_

—————

“So then you’re just left to find the derivative. And you’re done!” John and Sherlock were sitting on a picnic blanket in the middle of the quad. A half hour earlier, Sherlock had arrived at the library and started to walk up the stairs only to be immediately pulled in the other direction.

“Come on, we’re going to the quad! I brought a blanket. It’s beautiful out, why waste it?” John had seemed so eager that Sherlock couldn’t say no. Only thirty minutes later, however, the roles had been reversed; Sherlock was animately explaining a math problem that had been solved during class today, while John seemed skeptical of the process.

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing such difficult math in a Chemistry & Physics course. I don’t know how to do any of this!” John flopped backwards, letting his arms splay out. “I’m failing this course. And I can’t focus, and we have an exam soon, and I don’t know what to do.”

Sherlock was uncertain. Was he supposed to try to comfort John? Before Sherlock could do anything, John sat up, put his head in his hands, and sighed. In one sweeping motion, he collected all of the scattered papers and stuffed them into his bag.

“So. Sherlock. How are you?”

Sherlock was taken aback. “I’m doing well, and as you’ve already told me how you are, I get to ask a new question. What were you doing today?” After a moment’s pause, Sherlock amended his query. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

John held Sherlock’s gaze. “I was in court. My turn. Where did you grow up?”

“In the countryside. I went to a private boarding school beginning at age seven. That was where I lived until I arrived here. Were you on trial today?”

“No! God, Sherlock, I’m not a criminal! Tell me about your family.”

“Not a question.”

“Oh, stuff it.” John rolled his eyes dramatically. “Let’s see, how to put this… what’s your family like?”

Sherlock shrugged. “There’s my mum, my dad, and my brother, Mycroft. A meddling bunch, they are.”

John’s eyes darkened and his eyebrows pulled together. “That’s no way to talk about your family.”

Sherlock recognized the signs of anger and retreated. “Moving on. Why were you in court today, if not to go on trial?”

John avoided eye contact. “I wanted to see the case. How come I never see you talking to anyone besides me? Do you have any other friends?”

“I don’t need friends. I have one.”

John threw a smile in Sherlock’s direction, but it quickly faded. Sherlock opened his mouth as if to speak before noticing the indecision written all over John’s face.

_He’s going to tell me something important. I need to let him talk. At least, I think that’s what I’m supposed to do._

“Four years ago, both my parents were murdered. My dad was an army veteran, my mum was an undercover cop. Mum had just made a breakthrough on a case, but to keep her cover she needed to by drugs from a dealer, with a bodyguard to protect her. The bodyguard was supposed to be another undercover agent, but he got made before the meeting took place. My dad was the only other person who knew all the details of the case, and since he had served our country and all that shit, they let him go undercover. Dad wasn’t an agent. He screwed up and the drug dealer killed both of them.”

Sherlock felt some sympathy toward John, but he had to admit that the case was intriguing. “How did they catch the dealer?”

John swallowed hard. “The guy saw the case on the news and found out that the people he killed were a couple with kids. He came around the house one day while Harry was out and tried to convince me to join him. Imagine that. Just imagine. 15-year-old me dealing drugs with my parents’ killer. Lucky for me, Harry came back in as he was talking to me. We had an army man for a father, we have our danger signals. She called the police before the guy knew she was there. Today, he got what he deserved: a life sentence.”

“I’m- I’m really sorry about your parents.” Sherlock hoped he was saying the right thing.

“Thanks. I haven’t told anyone else though, so don’t go telling everyone about it.” John started to gather his things. “I’m going to go have a drink. See you- what’s that face for?” John halted mid-sentence and cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock.

“A drink?”

John burst out laughing. “You know, a beer. A pint. An alcoholic beverage. Drink your troubles away, that’s the way to go.”

Sherlock didn’t see the humor. “John, I understand the concept of getting a drink, but I don’t see why you would today. Isn’t it more conventional to get drunk on a night when you don’t have classes the next day?”

John’s face lit up. “You’ve never been for a drink, have you, Sherlock! You’re coming with me. And no dismal pubs tonight- we’re going clubbing!”

Sherlock barely had time to protest before John was dragging him toward the sidewalk. “What dorm are you in, Sherlock? We’re changing our clothes and heading straight out. I know the perfect place!”


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you kidding me?”

Sherlock took a step back. He had never been able to understand emotions, but it wasn’t until this very moment that he wished he could. What had he done wrong? Why was John angry? In a split second, Sherlock had gone from excited to disappointed. Of course he was losing his first friend, it was only logical.

Yet as these thoughts ran through his head, John continued to smile. “Turn around, mate. That’s my room right there. You’ve got to be shitting me, how come I didn’t know we were next to each other?”

_So he’s not mad?_

Sherlock tried to apologize, but his words came out in a stuttering mess.

_Well, if he didn’t hate me already, he does now._

John’s smile immediately fell, and Sherlock braced himself for the yelling that was sure to follow. All of a sudden, he was surprised to find John’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sherlock, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad, I promise. This is perfect! I just can’t believe I haven’t seen you around before. I figured you had to be across campus. Come on, man, smile a little.”

“I stay in my room when I don’t have class. I saw your schedule earlier, ours don’t match at all, besides mornings of course, so we never leave at the same time.” Sherlock was mumbling. For some reason, he felt embarrassed, and not even about anything in particular.

_I guess I must seem like a freak to him._

“Well, that’s got to change soon. Put on your best shirt- you do know how to do that, don’t you?” John chuckled to himself. Sherlock sure was an interesting guy.

—————

Sherlock never knew that lights could be loud.

But these ones certainly were– they shined so brightly, his head hurt. He began to protest, but the music was far too loud for John to hear. Instead, John pulled him toward the bar. A pretty brunette stood by the register. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a cute black short-sleeve button-up. Her lips were pursed and her eyebrows furrowed, but she smiled upon seeing John.

“John! It’s been a few days, where’ve you been? And who’s this handsome fellow?”

John grinned. “Molly, this is Sherlock. He’s my friend, we take Chem&Phys together. He’s never been clubbing before, if you can believe it.” He turned to Sherlock. “I’m sure you’ve deduced by now, her name’s Molly. She’s a friend I know from back home.”

Sherlock just winced. The noise, the lights, it was all a bit too much.

“Oh man, I’m sorry. I remember my first time at a bar, I should’ve warned you about the flashing lights and all. But I do know what will fix it!”

John turned back to Molly. “Molls, I want to make this a night to remember for Sherlock. I’ll pay you tomorrow, just put everything on my tab for tonight.”

Molly smirked. “You got it, boss. Let’s start with a couple shots.” Sherlock swallowed hard. John noticed and laughed.

_Is it bad that I’m enjoying his attention?_

“Don’t worry, Sherlock, I won’t drink too much. This is your turn to go wild.”

Every part of his mind screamed against him, but something inside of Sherlock pulled his hand toward the drinks. He picked one up and glanced at it. His nose wrinkled slightly, and John snickered, causing Sherlock to look up. Their eyes locked.

_I never realized eyes could smile._

John reached out and pushed the shot glass toward Sherlock’s mouth. Their pinkies touched slightly, and as if he was hypnotized, Sherlock downed the whole shot, his eyes never leaving John’s.

—————

“Woah there, mate. Slow down a bit, don’t want to end the night over the toilet.”

Sherlock’s smile had slowly spread throughout the night until it stretched from ear to ear. John laughed. Sherlock was quite handsome when he smiled.

Sherlock was having the time of his life. “I am quite drunk, quite drunk right now. I am, am I, John? Look at the people dancing, John. Look at ‘em having fun. I like fun, I like having fun, I like you, John.”

John couldn’t stop smiling. This was more enjoyable than he could have ever imagined. Molly walked by, nodding across the counter as she passed. John followed her gaze and saw a few beautiful girls sitting directly across from them.

“Okay, Sherlock, now for the best part. You see those girls over there? You're going to go talk to them, and then I’m going to come over and make sure you take one home.” Before John could even finish, Sherlock shook his head. His eyes were already glazed over.

“John, I don’t- I never did, don’t want to.” John was a little surprised, but it made sense.

“Oh, do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend, maybe?” Sherlock shook his head again.

_I’ve never wanted or needed another person in my life, not before now. And now I have you, John, why would I need another? One friend is more than enough._

Sherlock wanted to tell John that, but the words just tripped over his tongue. John sighed. “Maybe it’s time to take you home, Sherlock.” He put an arm around Sherlock but he refused to stand.

“One more shot, John.” Then in an exaggerated whisper, Sherlock turned to Molly and added, “Can I have five more? Just put them all in the same glass, John won’t know.” John chuckled and motioned to Molly to go ahead. Sherlock downed all five shots in a row, then promptly fell out of his chair.

—————

John had his arm around Sherlock’s waist, and Sherlock’s arm was draped over his shoulders. Sherlock was still very, very drunk. He kept trying to talk, but his thoughts were racing, and not like usual. No, at this moment, every sentence Sherlock tried to form merely dissipated into thin air. As John opened the door to the dorm, Sherlock began to remember bits and pieces from earlier in the night.

Sherlock mumbled to John, trying to help him. “Key in my pocket somewhere…” he trailed off as the world started to blur.

“Stay with me for a little while longer, Sherlock, we’re just down the hall.” John propped Sherlock up against the wall. He had said pocket, which pocket though? Only one way to find out. John tried Sherlock’s jacket pockets, outer and inner, then cautiously patted his pants. Nothing.

“Not trying to grope you man, just finding the key.” John then reached into each of Sherlock’s pants pockets, both front and back, but still there was nothing. The key must have fallen out after Sherlock fell over back at the bar. “Guess you’re sleeping at mine tonight.”

Sherlock didn’t hear him. All he could think about were John’s hands.

_They’re so gentle. All over me. I want more._

John sighed, before picking Sherlock up bridal style. He wasn’t that heavy, considering his height– John wondered why, but shelved the question for now. He placed Sherlock in a chair and pulled the covers back on the bed. Sherlock could take the bed, he’d sleep on the floor. He only had himself to blame for all this, after all.

_I don’t know what I’m feeling but I want to feel it again._

John helped Sherlock sit on the bed.

_I want more._

Sherlock fell slightly forward, and John jumped up to catch him. Without warning, Sherlock’s lips were pressed onto John’s. John pushed away, and Sherlock fell onto the pillow.

_Focus. Remember this feeling. I want more._

John shook his head. The things that happen when you’re drunk. He stood up, and carefully maneuvered Sherlock’s already-unconscious body until his jacket, belt, and shoes were off. John then changed into his own pajamas, grabbed an extra pillow and blanket, and turned off the light.

That had certainly been quite a night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! it's been over 2 years- I stopped because even with the incredibly kind comments, I felt like my writing was terrible. I came on AO3 to find something to read, and ended up reading my own. I still don't think it's the best, but it was barely recognizable to me, so I ended up liking my story again. Updates will probably be a lot at once and then not at all, but if anyone is still actually going to read this, I do plan on finishing the story. xoxo kkat


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